Marigold Chain (36 page)

Simon turned
languidly to face him, sighing slightly.

‘
Certainly. I have an urgent report to prepare for the Duke
and was careless enough to leave one of my files here.’

‘
I see.’
Alex smiled. ‘A report on the victualing service, perhaps? Or on
the fleet’s sail-power and projected movements?’

The breath
hissed faintly between Simon’s teeth but his manner retained its
urbanity.

‘
You are
very importunate, are you not? And all because of childish
jealousy. I know – everyone will know – what it is you
want.’

‘
You
would think that,’ replied Alex calmly. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not
true. I’m afraid you will have to do better than that.’

‘
Not I,
Alex – you. I have served York faithfully for seven years and I
have his regard. At best you will be thought merely vengeful – at
worst, guilty of treason. But either way your pathetic plot is
doomed to failure because it is a matter of your word against
mine.’

‘
It is a
matter,’ countered Alex, ‘of hard fact. We’ve had the accusation,
the denial and the counter-accusation, so let’s move on to the
evidence. For you have sold and betrayed your King, your country
and your fellows … and I can’t wait to hear you try to prove
otherwise.’

For a long
moment, Simon met the cold, steely eyes and then he yawned
delicately.

‘
I don’t
need to prove anything to you – nor will I try. But if nothing will
content you but that I listen to your co-called evidence, then make
haste and get on with it.’

‘
By all
means. Let’s begin with your presence here at this hour. You may be
wondering why we were expecting you – and for that I must refer you
to this.’ Sliding a hand into his pocket, Alex produced the
Arabella’
s bill of lading and
flicked it open for his cousin to see. ‘Perhaps Captain Vine did
not feel in necessary to tell you that he’d committed the great
mistake of delivering this to me instead of you?’

This time Simon
said nothing and his eyes narrowed fractionally.

‘
It
wasn’t very difficult,’ continued Alex, ‘to discover its secret or
to make a copy of it, return it to your accomplice and allow him to
take it to you at Sandwich. And naturally, we can prove that he did
so. At this moment, I imagine that my friend Mr Lewis is arresting
the good Captain … and once in custody, it’s only a matter of time
before he tries to save his skin by naming you.’

‘
This is
quite ludicrous,’ said Simon, a slight edge creeping into his
drawling tones. ‘I do not know Captain Vine and I have received no
document such as the one you have there.’

‘
Destroyed it, have you? I thought you would.’ The smile
touching Alex’s mouth faded along with the pleasant timbre of his
voice as he opened out another sheet of paper. ‘A wise man would
have destroyed this too – but I’m so glad you didn’t, for it
provided the solution to a puzzle I’d almost given up hope of
solving.’

‘
I should
be obliged,’ said Simon frostily, ‘if you would keep to the
point.’

‘
If you
are patient,’ replied Alex, ‘you’ll find that I am keeping to it.
First, I must confess that I took the liberty of searching your
house – and very illuminating I found it. It was interesting, for
example, to discover that you were compiling dossiers on my Lord
Arlington and Sir William Coventry – but more interesting by far
was the letter I found in the priest’s hole and which I can only
suppose you kept because its congratulatory tone appealed to your
vanity. Old Noll was pleased with you – and for good reason.’ Alex
paused briefly and then went on. ‘So far you stand arraigned for
the treasonable selling of information and the disruption of His
Majesty’s fleet; you are also guilty of murder, for Daniel Fawsley
died by your agency as surely as if you’d struck him down yourself.
But more than all of that,’ finished Mr Deveril, with lethal
clarity, ‘this letter proves you responsible for the capture and
execution of countless loyal gentlemen when, together with Richard
Wyllis, you betrayed the Sealed Knot to Cromwell. And I would
suggest that it is your death warrant.’

There was a
long, heady silence and then Giles crossed the room saying
abruptly, ‘Let me see.’

Without taking
his eyes from his cousin’s face, Alex handed over the letter and
Giles moved away, reading as he went. Then, passing it to
Arlington, he looked back at Simon, his eyes filled with disgust.
‘You bloody Judas,’ he said contemptuously.

Simon, his
attention fixed on Alex, did not bother to look round.

‘
Dear
me,’ he said mildly. ‘What a meddling nuisance you’ve become,
Cousin. I believe I really must relieve you of those
letters.’

‘
You
think I’m going to give them to you? And to what end? Three people
in this room have read them and a fourth outside it.’

‘
I don’t
consider that an insurmountable problem. But first …
first
dear Alex, I seem to have no
alternative but to clear you from my path.’

Alex
smiled. ‘
Ambition should be made of
sterner stuff
.. but, since the way to the door lies
through me, I was rather hoping you might like to try.’

The effete face
flushed and changed so rapidly that it might have belonged to
another man.

‘
Try?’
echoed Simon gratingly, as he drew his sword. ‘
Try?
I’ll do more than try. I’ll cut off that
prying nose and rip out your heart. But first let’s even the odds a
little.’ And with a swift, unexpected movement, he was at
Arlington’s side, twisting the hand that held the incriminating
letter high against his spine whilst laying his blade close along
his lordship’s throat. Then, gesturing to Giles, ‘You. Take off
your sword.’

‘
Or
what?’ asked Mr Beckwith, unmoving.

‘
Or I
slit his lordship’s gizzard. Take off your sword and throw it into
that corner. Now.’

Arlington
swallowed and a thin line of blood followed the bright edge of the
blade.

‘
Do it,
Giles,’ said Alex quietly. ‘This was always going to be my
fight.’

‘
He’s
bluffing,’ said Giles. ‘He won’t do it.’

‘
He
will.’ Anger flared in the light voice; anger directed, not at
Giles or Arlington, but at himself for not foreseeing this
eventuality. ‘He doesn’t care who dies - and he has nothing to
lose. So just do it.’

‘
How
wise,’ purred Simon. ‘How very wise.’ He watched Mr Beckwith
reluctantly discard his sword and slide it along the floor, then
looked back at Alex. ‘I wonder, my foolish failed hero, where you
have put your sword … for I am very sure you didn’t come here
without it.’

‘
No,’
agreed Alex. Two seconds were all he needed to snatch the weapon
from its resting place in the shadows of the aumbry but, as long as
Simon held Arlington, it was useless to him. ‘No. And it’s at your
disposal.’

Simon laughed
softly and was about to reply when the unexpected happened. With a
brief, muffled moan, the Secretary of State grew suddenly lax in
his hold and he found himself supporting what was swiftly becoming
a dead weight. Lord Arlington, it appeared, had fainted.

Simon did the
only possible thing and let him fall, the tip of his sword sweeping
down to maintain its threat. But even as he moved, Giles seized the
moment to hurl himself forward and Simon, startled, whipped up his
guard and side-stepped. Off course and unable to do anything about
it, Giles crashed harmlessly past him; something ice-cold seared
his left arm and he hit the floor harder than he had expected
before rolling less than gracefully to his feet. Then he
smiled.

As an attacker,
he had been an unqualified failure; but as a diversion he had
achieved all he had hoped. Thirty-five inches of steel gleamed in
Alex’s hand and Arlington, remarkably spry for a fainting man, had
seized the chance to scuttle crab-like to safety. The wheel of
advantage had turned full circle. Then he heard Alex say, ‘Well
done. But you’re making a terrible mess on Mr Pepys’ carpet.’ And
looked down, vaguely surprised to see blood trickling over his
fingers from a deep gash in his upper arm.

Alex’s light,
compelling gaze rested on his cousin with a remoteness that was
mere illusion. He said, ‘Your leverage is gone and your path still
lies through me. Will you fight?’

Simon smiled
and his fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword.

‘
Trial by
combat, Alex? How archaic of you. But yes, my winsome cousin. Of
course I’ll fight.’

Despite his
reddened throat and dishevelled appearance, Arlington suddenly
became every inch the Secretary of State.

‘
I find
the case against Simon Deveril proven beyond any reasonable doubt
and, as a trusted confidant to the heir presumptive of this
kingdom, consider him a serious political threat. The Duke of
York’s popularity is too weak to withstand the scandal of this
sort. It is therefore necessary to dispose of the matter privately
– here and now. But the law states that every man is entitled to
stand his trial and, in view of this, I grant Alexander Deveril the
privilege of defending his sovereign in single combat against this
traitorous felon. My only proviso is this. That since Simon
Deveril’s life is forfeit to the Crown, Alexander Deveril shall
justify the honour granted him by claiming it.’ He paused, for it
was a huge risk and he knew it. Then, ‘Are my terms
accepted?’

Simon laughed
derisively but said nothing.

Silence
stretched out on invisible threads before Alex said crisply, ‘They
are accepted. Giles – shove that desk out of the way; my lord, pull
your chair into the corner and get yourself behind it. We’re going
to need some room.’ And when it was done, with a slight bow, ‘I
believe we are ready, my lord.’

‘
So
eager,’ murmured Simon. ‘So full of confidence. What a shame it’s
misplaced.’ And immediately opened the attack with a thrust in high
tierce which Alex met without apparent difficulty, stepping back to
disengage and following through with a riposte that forced Simon
into a swift, sideways parry.

Giles found
himself watching Simon’s sword-play with professional interest. He
was good – very good, in fact – which was surprising for, since he
must practise in secret, it was hard to know where and with whom he
could have done so. But practised he undoubtedly was, for his wrist
was flexible, his footwork neat and his knowledge of strokes and
techniques remarkably extensive. Indeed, he once produced a
sweeping pass which Mr Beckwith had never seen before and which
nearly cost Alex the tendons of his left wrist. Giles frowned a
little, wondering what Alex was doing; and then, thinking that he
knew, smiled to himself whilst trying to stop his arm dripping on
the carpet.

‘
Finger
by finger,’ purred Simon, ‘and hand by hand – like so.’ And he sent
his blade skimming along the till its point reached the guard and
slid off to score the back of his cousin’s knuckles.

Alex did not
even glance at it. With a swift hard, flick, he forced up the
attacking blade and in the same fluid movement, delivered a low
thrust that forced Simon to retreat part-way across the room.

‘
I could
maim you or I could kill you,’ mused Simon. ‘Which would you
prefer, I wonder?’

He made a
sweeping cut that might have sliced through Alex’s thigh had he not
seen it coming in time to avoid it.

‘
I’d
prefer that you stopped talking,’ returned Alex dryly. ‘Unless you
want to bore me to death?’

Relentless,
untiring, the fight went on. Simon attempted a daring flanconade
and his point slit Alex’s sleeve before it was deftly parried.
There was a confused scraping of blades and Simon disengaged to
recover his guard. He was panting a little from the exertion of
delivering a constant attack that he plainly hoped would provide
him with an opening but somehow never did.

Blood began to
drip steadily from Alex’s arm but the sword remained an extension
of his body and his defence never wavered. Simon lunged, Alex
replied with a counter-disengage and Simon was forced to retreat.
He circled, his point darting playfully at Alex while he strove to
recover his breath.

‘
Is this
the best you can do?’ he taunted. ‘I expected better of one of
Rupert’s puppies.’ And, leaping forward, his blade slashed down
towards the bones of Alex’s hand.

Alex snatched
it back and forte met foible.

‘
The stars move still, time runs, the clock must
strike,’
he said quietly.

‘
Oh
please.’ Simon’s teeth gleamed in a feral grin. ‘How tediously
predictable.’

‘
Not
exciting enough for you?’ asked Alex. ‘Really? Perhaps I can help
with that.
The devil will come and Faustus
must be damned
.’

And with the
words, a change came, as Alex finally chose to exert the full sum
of his skill. Suddenly hard-pressed, Simon lunged and met an
opposition of such force that it drove him breathlessly down the
length of the room.

The light eyes
were brilliant and Harry Deveril’s sword was wielded with supple
dexterity in the hand of his son as it pushed Simon back and back
down the room. Simon had no breath now for words, none even to
waste in attack; he could only parry automatically to protect
himself.